He didn’t want to complete the intimate bonding process—the werewolf’s equivalent of marriage—with anyone, let alone a human. That kind of life wasn’t in the cards for him. He was a hit man, for Christ’s sake. If there was a stable woman in his life, what would he do when he came home from work? “Honey, I’m home! Work was great. I slammed Butch’s face against a Dumpster behind Cosmo’s and finished the hit once I dragged him into the bed of my truck. Don’t worry, I’ll scrub the bloodstains out later. What’s for dinner?” So not happening.
He hadn’t even realized he’d been eating until his spoon slipped from his hand and flopped into his Grape Nuts, splashing milk all over his shirt. Fang looked up from the floor and whimpered.
“Damn it.” Snatching a towel hanging from the stove, Logan tried to scrape the wet drops away. It smeared the wetness into a funky blob. “Son of a—”
A loud, single-blaring honk sounded from outside.
He pushed back the chair and hauled ass to the front window. A taxi had pulled up in front of Veronica’s house, directly behind his truck. He was used to hearing her garage door open signaling her exit, but with her car in the shop, she must’ve called a cab.
“Damn it.” No chance to finish breakfast or wipe the mess off his shirt. “Where’s she going now?”
Veronica bolted down her walkway and hopped into the taxi. Once the cab pulled away from the curb, Logan snatched his keys off their hook and barreled out the door. His truck started up with a roar, and he peeled out to follow the fading yellow blur.
He wasn’t going to be able to protect her this way. Because he couldn’t keep his hands off, as Jake had asked him to do, everything had changed. He was going to have to say something about what he’d been hired to do, and why. If Jake didn’t say something by the end of the day, Logan was letting the cat out of the bag.
And he hated cats.
Chapter Six
The taxi turned off of Ballard Way and pulled into Floral and Fauna’s parking lot. The place was tiny and locally owned, and supplied almost all of the flowers for Veronica Vale Weddings. Veronica found the place through a wonderful recommendation given by a cousin a few years back, and had used Floral and Fauna since. She was probably keeping them in business.
But there was one matter of business to take care of before she entered the shop.
“Stop here,” she told the taxi, and watched as Logan’s truck bumbled around the corner and into the parking lot behind them. “What does he want?”
She paid the cab driver and got out of the car. When Logan spotted her walking up to his truck, he paled, looking as if he’d seen the Ghost of Girlfriends Past.
“Good morning,” he said, stepping out. “What a coincidence, meeting you like this. What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” She tucked her bag under her arm and planted her opposite hand on her hip. She wasn’t budging this time. There was nothing in this neighborhood for him—he was following her. The question was why.
“I’m, uh”—he scanned the buildings lining the lot—“here to go shopping.”
“At Cigars & Stuff?” Veronica rolled her eyes and stared at the obnoxious red-and-black advertisement plastered on the building beside them.
“Why not?”
“It’s, like, nine a.m.”
“I smoke with breakfast.”
He was such a liar. A hot liar, but still.
“Seriously, Logan. I watched you follow me here out the back window. What do you want?”
He paused, his gaze shifting from one of her eyes to the other. “I guess I might as well tell you now. I was going to make Jake tell you by the end of the day anyway.”
She froze. “Tell me what? If you have a disease or something, so help me—”
“No, oh God no.” His hands found her shoulders. “Nothing like that. It’s just…Jake hired me to protect you.”
Veronica felt her eyebrows pinch. “Protect me?”
“He wanted me to keep you safe.” He removed his hands as she gave him a death glare. “He hired me to be your bodyguard while he and Leah are in San Francisco.”
Wonderful. Just wonderful. First her lover, and then her neighbor, and then her bodyguard. What next? Her private waxer?
“Why would Jake worry about my safety? It’s not like I’m incapable of taking care of myself while Leah’s out of town.”
“Then call her,” Logan said, nodding to the bag clutched under her arm. “Maybe Jake’s told her everything by now.”
“Told her what?”
“Everything.”
“But I’m asking you.” She took a slow step forward. Surprisingly, Logan backed away. “Why does my future brother-in-law think I need a bodyguard?”
“Because that secret admirer you think you have isn’t what you think he is.”
The note she’d found in her mailbox this morning burned a hole through her bag and warmed against her side. “They told you about him?”
“Veronica, he’s taken a sharp turn into the stalker zone.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” She turned and headed toward Floral and Fauna. “You’re all being ridiculous. He’s sent me a few notes and flowers, and they’ve all been really sweet. I don’t need a bodyguard.”
Logan followed her around the building. “He sent you more than that, but Jake kept the whole thing quiet. He didn’t want to freak Leah out so she’d cancel her book tour, and if you found out, the first thing you’d do is call her. There’s more to it, but the bottom line is that Jake asked me to take care of things, and I am.”
She whirled around on him. “What did Jake keep quiet? What are you talking about?”
He seemed to pause at her words, as if contemplating whether he should be the one to tell her. But tell her what, exactly?
“I think it’s best if you hear it from him.”
“You know what Jake’s problem is? He’s overprotective and thinks that because he’s marrying my sister, he should have some say over my life. You can tell him he’s wrong.” Without thinking, she jerked the note from her admirer out of her bag and shook it in front of his face. “There’s nothing stalkerish about these notes. There’s nothing wrong with someone being honest about their feelings. In fact, in light of what happened last night, I find it refreshing.”
Logan’s face lost its color. “Is that from him?”
“It must’ve arrived in the mail yesterday. I found it this morning, and it’s lovely.”
“What’s it say?”
She smiled smugly, holding the note against her chest. “That I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He thinks about me constantly, even when we’re not together, and can’t tear his eyes away from me.”
“Does that mean he’s watching you now?”
“The note didn’t say he watches me every minute.” Shivers danced up Veronica’s arms. “The notes aren’t creepy. They’re sweet.”
“They’re only sweet if the guy makes a move. If he sits in the shadows watching you, it’s pervy.” Logan made a move for the note, but she jerked away. “What’s on the back? Is that…blood?”
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad.” She frowned, looking at the light-red smudges that marred the back. “The note was written in red ink. It’s not blood. It’s stains from the pen.”
“Unless he wrote the note in blood.”
“Listen to you! You’re crazy!”
He reached for the note again, so Veronica shoved it in her bag and zipped it closed.